roof of the chapel had resisted the corroding influence of time.

The nurse would have now willingly returned to the villa, and Berta's
father had no desire to go any further, but Berta passed through the
ruined portico, and they were obliged to follow her.

She made her way into the chapel, passing under the crumbling arches which
threatened at every moment to fall down and crush her, and she emerged at
what must have been the centre of the monastery, for the remains of the
wall and some broken and unsteady pilasters showed four paths which,
uniting at their extremities, formed a square. This must have been the
cloister, in the middle were vestiges of a choked-up cistern.

Here Berta sat down on a piece of cornice which was imbedded in the
rubbish. She seemed pleased in the midst of this desolation. Her father
and the nurse joined her with terror depicted on their countenances; they
had heard the noise of footsteps in the chapel; more, Juana had seen a
shadow glide away; how or where she did not know, but she was sure that
she had seen it.

Berta smiled and said:

"The noise of footsteps and a shadow? Very well; what harm can those
footsteps or that shadow do us? They are perhaps the footsteps of Adrian
Baker following us; it is his shade that accompanies us. What is there
strange in that? Do you not know that I carry him in my heart? Do you not
know that I am waiting for him, that I am always waiting for him?"

At the name of Adrian Baker, Berta's father and the nurse shuddered.